The Storm
by My Onyx Heart
Summary: Paul saves Bella from a tornado that's wreaking havoc on La Push. In an ancient storm shelter, they discover certain truths and answers about themselves. Nothing will ever be the same. Rated M for language, disturbing content and lemons. OOC, B/P
1. Chapter 1: Mourn

**AN: Just a little something that has been in my head for a long time. Copyright infringement in not intended. Enjoy and review it you want to... All mistakes are my own and im sure there are some. **

**-kissingkatebarlow**

Friday, August 13th, 8:04 A.M.

La Push Forest

The silence could be described as deafening – a certain type of silence that thresholds a violent storm on the horizon. The foliage around was still; no leaf was rustling, no sparse grass swaying. He lifted his snout to the air and inhaled deeply. The air was cleansed of everything but the forest around him. He could feel the storm coming; the moisture in the air and the humidity. Creatures of the humid, darkened forest were silent. Birds chirping, small rodents scuttling around, the occasional snap of a branch from a larger animal; all these sounds were absent. The most he could hear was the sap escaping from the trees; _Drip, drip, drip._

He remained frozen in posture and tilted his head to the north, listening. If he strained his senses far enough, he could hear the wind whipping through the trees about a mile out. He phased back to his human form and remained still in the trees - nude. His human mind tuned more on a strategic thought pattern than his wolf. His wolf-mind was instinctual.

His wolf mind would probably brush off the howling wind from the north as natural, but the man knew it was artificial. He turned his whole body this time, facing his dominant ear to the west. He could still hear the storm coming. He angled his body so one of each of his ears were facing both north and west. As he listened intently, his mind quickly supplied the morning's weather forecast: _Severe thunderstorm warnings with possible chance of developing tornadoes. Record breaking highs for Washington. High Humidity. Emergency..._

He growled deep in his throat, the motion sending deep vibrations to his chest. Without another thought, he took off towards the north in human form.

His bare feet pounded against the dirt, sidestepping rocks and just running through vines and roots from trees. His human form was slower than the wolf's but his mind was sharper and clearer.

Paul didn't like the voices in his head. He often thought them a hindrance and a violating invasion of privacy. He could barely stand his own thoughts, let alone the thoughts of five other people. And all the testosterone of young, hot-blooded males; If he had to hear one more time about a certain somebody or a secret hidden fantasy, he was going to explode.

Or his form. Literally.

When he ran about a half-mile, the scent of leech hit him hard. Forcing himself not to bend over and spew the contents of his stomach, he held his breath and slowed to a halt. His eyes darted between the trees and his ear faced the north once again. He waited thirty seconds.

He then counted down in his head, _Five, four, three, two, on..._

His sight caught the flash of red through the trees. He charged ahead, still human form, and leaned over. He kicked his legs out from under himself, and slid forward on his stomach - the roots, rocks and dirt cutting into his stomach and chest - and reached a hand out.

The parasite's red eyes focused on the trees and her direction. East. That was her destination. He chuckled internally and grabbed her thin, cold ankle as he lie in the brush. She gasped and tried to untangle his hand, but he grinned wickedly and lifted his arm above his head and whipped her into a large tree.

The force of her frozen body hitting the tree caused branches and leaves to fall atop her and implant themselves in her wild hair. She shook her head as if dazed when she regained balance. She looked to Paul who was now standing, and gave him an evil smirk. She jumped in the air, kicked her foot off the same tree and now ran towards the south.

He growled and chased after her.

His human speed was no match for a bloodsucker, but he wanted his _human _advantage. As he chased her for a mile, when he had the opportunity, he purposely punched a sapling with extreme force as he passed. He could feel the blood ooze from his knuckles.

The bloodsucker slowed and scented the air. She continued running, but not before sending him a disgusted grimace behind her shoulder. Paul smirked and extended his arm. Her pause was all he had needed.

He grasped her red-flame hair in his hand and tugged. But she wasn't slowing. She screeched as the hair ripped from her granite skull. She continued running.

He clenched his right fist, now full of foul smelling hair, and growled, low and deep. He kicked her in the small of her back. After flying through the trees, she landed atop the steep cliff.

As she climbed to her feet, he smirked and walked towards her slowly. He held the hair up to her, smilingly wickedly as if showing her his priced piece.

She screeched, did a back flip and took off into the ocean. He laughed and threw the hair over the cliff. He was a little disappointed. He wanted to play more.

He was good at hiding his thoughts, but if this had happened while he took on his other form, his pack mates would have known about it. Good he barely ever phases and they never know. He looked up from smirking at the ground and saw the red-headed leech standing atop James's's Island and staring his way. He waved to her mockingly with a big grin. She scowled and soon disappeared.

He laughed out loud.

8:30 AM

Third Beach, La Push

Pulling on the basketball shorts that he had strapped around his ankle, he stared off into the ocean, futilely hoping the leech would circle back. When she made no sign of her presence, he shrugged and told himself there was always tomorrow.

He tasted the salty air on his tongue and sighed. He always loved the beaches surrounding La Push. People never crowded them; only a few times a year, the palefaces from Forks would come and throw a bonfire and maybe surf. The locals didn't enjoy their company, but there wasn't much they could do. Third beach strictly forbade outsiders. But if they were so inclined, the 1.3 mile trek down a forested path is a good deterrent.

Paul faced away from the ocean, and quickly jumped off the side of the cliff, landing with a muted thud into the dense packed sand. The sun beat harshly on his shoulders as he walked to the water and picked up a couple rocks in the palm of his hand.

He tilted his body sideways, flung his arm out and snapped his wrist. The greenish, gray rock skipped a few times before finally sinking.

He decided to kill time before he had to check in with the pack. His comrades need to fill their duties at the moment – the circumstances such being sad. He no-doubt would get an oral tongue-lashing from Sam. He was to alert others if he crossed paths with the red-head, not chase after her in human-form and play a cat and mouse game.

The ill-tempered wolf walked along the water, his feet barely sinking into the sand because of his light footsteps. He felt a sense of peace wash over him. His thoughts were his own and he didn't have any company. La Push residents stayed hunkered down in their homes, waiting out the storm that was sure to come, if judging by the rapidly darkening sky was any sign. He felt grateful for the violent oncoming storm - he liked to be by himself.

A snap of a branch followed by a heartbeat had his head snapping to look towards the path that gave access to the beach. A young woman with a cascade of dark hair came through the trees, squinting her eyes against the remaining rays of sunshine. He almost growled aloud, but stopped himself. How dare she invade his personal sanctuary. He was enjoying his peace.

She didn't look in his direction - a ways down the beach. She strode over to the water and put her bare feet in. He had to give her credit. She walked down that mile path barefoot - though judging by her outfit, he couldn't blame her. She wore a black dress that rode above her knees and swished along her thighs. She probably took her heels off to get down the path, he guessed.

She lifted her head to the darkening sky and took a deep breath. Something large and metal glinted against the sun as she held it to her chest. She walked out of the water and sat down in the sand, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her slim arms around them. The black dress rose indecently high up her thighs.

Paul knew who she was and could already guess what she was doing here. The woman - Bella Swan - had recently lost her father.

He had heard the story - and even felt pity for her. She arrived home at night, after a bonfire on second beach. Jacob had to run patrol that night and couldn't escort her home. When the Alpha had offered to have a different wolf escort her home, she thanked him but refused. Paul ran through Forks' forest that night after having left some stranger's house for a romp. He couldn't remember her name.

And he had heard the screams.

Almost compelled, he had followed the yells to the Swan house, littering the front yard and street were a load of police cars and an ambulance. The young woman was in hysterics and fought against police officers as they tried to escort her out of the house.

Turns out, when she arrived home, she had found her father slaughtered in front of the television. The police reports and the medical examiner obviously knew what she had saw, but she refused to speak of it. Although details remained little on the event, horrific is what police officers said.

Bella sniffed and Paul's eyes shot up from her thigh where they had been lingering. He thought she was attractive in her mourning dress but quickly shook the idea away. He couldn't admire _Bella Swan. _He had his opinions on her - none of which he would make known - but he did have them. And they all weren't good.

The reason he was on patrol was because of Charlie Swan's belated funeral. The Pack and Council had prepared to attend the event for support. Charlie's likely attacker was a cold one, but everyone forbidden from the crime scene. They missed the scent because of this, but figured the red-haired vampire was responsible

He had heard the police contained Bella on a 48-hour suicide watch but didn't know for sure. It took her a while to even plan a funeral for the man, but with Billy Black's urging, she finally relented - albeit hesitantly. Two months later.

The paleface young woman cremated her father's body – by his wishes.

Paul couldn't remember walking to her, but he was standing directly over her. She frowned at the shadow on the ground and looked up into his eyes. He nearly fell to his knees.

He didn't feel the ground move. He didn't feel invisible steel cables detach from the earth and attach themselves to her. She wasn't the sole focus of his world.

He did not imprint on her.

But the look in her eyes? He recognized it. He recognized it so well that he felt he was looking into a mirror. Devastation was the only word he could use to describe what was swirling in her brown orbs. He held back another growl - he didn't understand her making him weak. He didn't recognize the tight feeling in his chest that demanded sympathy from him.

"Go home," He told her harshly. "There's a storm coming."

She watched him for a moment and then looked to the sky. Her face was indecipherable – almost to him like an illegible piece of writing that contained scrawls or chicken-scratches. She bit the inside of her cheek, her gracefully arched eyebrows furrowed as she heaved a harsh breath. The wolf could hear it rattle her lungs almost like they have been unused for a while.

"I have to do this," She stated in a mumble. It sounded as if she was talking to her - convincing herself - rather than him.

"Do it another day," He bit out.

She jerked her head towards him, her eyes widening as if just realizing who he was. Her eyes trailed down his face, paused at his lips, and then trailed the rest of the way to his toes. She snapped her head back up, focusing on his eyes with a tinge of red coloring her cheeks.

Bella shook her head, almost like a defiant child who refused to listen. She looked so innocent in the moment.

"I won't be long," She exhaled sharply, her eyes crossing as she cranked her neck back and studied his own orbs. He noticed how her chocolate eyes focused in on a spot to the side of his nose. He realized she was pretending to make eye contact, and any lesser being would not have noticed. But he did - and he found it a clever tactic. Making eye-contact sometimes left you feeling vulnerable and anxious. Not to mention awkward; if you didn't know the person.

He had to give her props - he used the same exact maneuver.

"I want you to leave," He told her, his lip curling in a sneer, showing a glimpse of his white teeth. "There's a storm coming," He repeated as if she was a child, "And I don't want you here."

Bella gasped, her eyes widening. Her plump lower lip trembled before she quickly put it between her teeth. She looked down, breaking her fake eye-contact.

"I don't have anywhere to go."

Paul barked a laugh, "I don't care. As far as I'm concerned, this is my reservation and if I don't want you here, you should just fucking leave. I'm not kidding."

Her eyes welled with tears, but before they could fall from her eyelashes, she forcibly shook her head.

"What is your problem?" She bit out.

"You."

She stood up then, the urn still firmly clutched under her arm, her other hand on her hip. "I don't give a flying fuck. Charlie wanted his ashes spread among his favorite fishing location. And I'll be damned if you ruin that!"

Her chest heaved as she finished, her eyes now narrowed to slits. Her hands shook and he noticed she was furious.

But he was angrier and he had no idea why. "Go fuck yourself leech-lover and fuck your father."

He didn't notice her take a step towards him. He didn't noticed her lift her arm. But the impact against his cheek disoriented him and his face swung to the side. As he tried to shake his head against the confusion, he saw out of the corner of his eye the now-bloodstained urn. She charged again before he could regain his balance and slammed the hard metal urn in an uppercut fashion. His neck and head snapped back. He stumbled on his feet and lost balance, falling on to his back side.

She laughed evilly and smashed the urn against the top of his head. He couldn't even will his body to phase and attack the little paleface. He sat dumbfounded - his cheek bleeding onto the white sand.

She lifted her dress high on her thighs and ran across the sand - away from him. Down the beach, urn still clutched under her arm, she stopped and turned around. From the distance he could see her tears, but her lips curled in a wicked smile. She gave him a one-fingered salute and then continued down the beach - her laughter trailing in her wake.

He stared towards her direction - flabbergasted.

A part of his mind whispered; _You deserved it._

August 13th 9:04 AM

La Push - Third Beach parking lot

Bella heaved the door of her ancient truck open, her malicious laughs turning into hysterical hiccups. She pulled herself into the cab and banged her fists against the steering wheel in frustration.

The small brunette had a mix of emotions swirling in her – anger, fury, sadness, offense. She had never put a violent hand on anybody in her life. She hated herself, the ill-tempered asshole werewolf and the whole universe.

Bella never thought her life would turn out this way. She had big hopes and dreams before coming to dreary side of the country; She would go to an ivy league school - god knew her greats used to be good enough - and major in English Literature. She wanted to become a teacher someday - sharing her love for books with innocent minds and souls - maybe make them love it as much as her. But these dreams wouldn't happen now.

She failed, miserably. She did finish high school with above average grades, but never applied to any colleges. She her hopes set on a certain future - even refusing to give it up after someone cruelly ripped it away from her.

Her thoughts were of the same mind-set when she found her father that ghastly night.

She shook her head and slammed the rusted door shut. She couldn't think of it. The crime was horrible, grotesque. You only saw that violence in movies and thought, _That would never happen to me. _Like parents who watch Forensic Files or America's Most wanted, they always thought; _"Those poor unfortunate people. It's great that will never happen to us."_

It does happen in reality though. Then it's horrifying. The event feels like an out-of-body experience. _Is this real? Am I dreaming? _And when you finally realize it's real, you freak out.

Bella was on suicide watch for 48 hours - although many people assumed this and heard rumors about it, she never fully admitted to it.

She could never admit how she had failed miserably - just not at a future - but at life. How when people expected her to be calm and levelheaded she had lost it. She clung to her father's mutilated body and refused to let go or admit that he was dead. She fought police and gave a young rookie a good right-hook with her fist before she they detained her.

Neighbors had watched and she will always remember the high-pitched screams that she didn't realize were coming from her own throat.

A rumble of thunder boomed across the silent parking lot, causing Bella to jump and slam her back against her seat. A crack of lightning followed. The wind appeared out of nowhere like some foreign entity. Sand swirled in the air of the parking lot.

Looking towards the sky, Bella noted the lack of light. The horizon turned dark quickly, it looked almost nighttime - not nine in the morning. Her eyes darted to the swaying trees, leaves ripping from them.

She muttered unintelligibly, put her key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened. She stared muddled before trying again - with the same result.

She tired over and again, pumping both gas and clutch. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at the silver urn, tears threatening to leak from her eyes.

"What do I do? What do I _do_?" She whispered at her father's ashes.

Bella couldn't think straight, let alone come up with some plan. Taking a deep breath, she steeled her thoughts and turned the key backwards. Country music came from her speakers - so the battery couldn't be dead.

She pushed the five different radio station buttons - hearing silence except for the first channel - when she got the last she stopped and listened to the crackling airwaves.

The wind picked up outside the truck - debris flying in the air; leaves, sand, grass, trash. A sudden beeping from the radio made her jump. To accompany the obnoxious sound, thunder boomed.

She turned the radio up. _Beep. Beep. Beep. Emergency broadcast center. A severe storm with multiple funnel clouds found just five miles outside Forks, Washington. Tornadoes spotted in Port Angeles. Take cover now. _

Bella gasped and tried to start her truck again but there was nothing - no wheezing, spluttering or groaning. Just complete silence.

_Think. Think._ She could come up with possible options- 1) Go to Jacob's house which wasn't too far. 2) Go to Sam and Emily's which was on the other side of the reservation. 3) Walk home.

She mentally crossed out the third choice. She couldn't walk fifteen miles home when Tornadoes were in Port Angeles and others on the way.

She pondered the first choice. She didn't know if Jacob would be home and the Black's didn't have a basement. Jake had probably taken his father over to the Clearwater's, which she had no idea of the location.

The second alternative seemed too hard. Sam and Emily's house was across the reservation - almost the same distance as her walking home.

She banged her head back against her seat. She had ran low on luck.

A loud knock on her window had her ducking her head, covering it with her arms and preparing to hide under the seats of her old truck. She peeped up under her arms and cautiously looked towards the window.

Paul was staring through her truck window, his shaggy ebony hair blowing fiercely in the wind. The wolf's's face had healed flawlessly –without a scar or mark, but drops of crimson blood had stained his cheek, lower lip and chest. She ducked back down under her arms and clenched her eyes closed.

If he didn't kill her, the storm surely would.

La Push, Third Beach Parking lot.

9:31 A.M.

The violent paleface ducked down in her car, her arms covering her head. Paul could smell her fear and see her shoulders slightly quaking.

When he finally recovered from the couple of blows to his head, his anger had subsided and then he just felt bad. The violent wolf should have never said anything to that young woman. The fight was his fault. However, he thought wryly, had it been anyone else, they wouldn't have survived his wrath.

She stunned him. No one had ever stuck up to him in such a violent way - not even his family. He hated to admit it, but he had to respect the little paleface.

He was intending to walk across the parking lot and up in to the woods to his cabin. He planned on waiting in the old fallout shelter with a bottle of tequila.

But he saw her truck there and her frustrated face as she stared out the window. He watched her arm fiddling with something and figured she was trying to start the car. He had heard the faint protest of the engine with his lupine ears but he doubted she heard it.

When she banged her head against the seat, he was moving towards her window.

He tapped on the glass and she ducked quickly down. She peeked up at him, her gasp caught in her throat and ducked back down.

Didn't she realize if he was going to hurt her, he would have already?

He tapped against the glass again and she slowly straightened her eyes trained on the side of his nose through the glass. He motioned for her to roll the window down.

She did so, slowly, the wind invading her truck and swirling her hair and scent around rapidly. When he saw her widened, scared eyes, he tried to smile but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Car trouble?" He questioned in a monotone voice. He wasn't waiting for an answer since he already knew it.

"Yeah," She mumbled, biting down on her plump lower lip. He ignored the action and studied her eyes. She recently cried, that was for sure. There was no amusement on her face - like the last time he saw her.

The wind picked up speed, blowing the legs of his basketball shorts tight against his thighs. He saw her eyes dart down to the movement and then look to the sky. Thunder rumbled loudly, followed by a blinding flash of lightning.

He tried not to notice how the flash had lightened her eyes to an almost hazel-green color.

"I...I..." She stuttered and then stopped - taking a deep breath. She was looking at his hair now. Which he could no longer feel blowing in the wind. Her head jerked around in different directions, her lower lip now trembling. Her eyes couldn't focus on something certain.

The wind had stopped. The atmosphere became still.

"Shit."

"Oh god."

They both whispered at the same exact time as heavy golf ball sized hail beat down from the black sky.

"Come on," He told her urgently. "Get your stuff."

Bella nodded frantically and cranked up her window. She ripped her keys from her ignition and grabbed her large duffle bag from the passenger floorboards. He vaguely wondered why she needed a duffle bag and where she could have been going.

She jumped from the truck - accidentally slamming the door into his hip - and rushed to his side. He slammed the door with his palm. He took the duffle from her and strapped it over his shoulder. Taking her other hand, he pulled her across the parking lot and towards the tree line, both of them barefoot.

As he went to tug her into the woods, he felt her stop and pull on his hand. "Wait," she called over sound of the hail.

The wind picked again. In the distance he could hear a funnel-like sound. The winds from the tornado sounded like a large train on it's way.

"What? Let's get going. This is bad." He spoke harshly - questioning her sanity.

Tears gathered on her lashes. "My dad's ashes. I forgot them."

He couldn't ignore her. He couldn't ignore this. They both would never forgive themselves.

He swore loudly and turned her body towards the tree-line. "Head straight up the hill, as fast as you can. I'll be just a minute. Keep moving."

She nodded and began to run into the trees barefoot, her dress blowing up and disclosing tiny strips of black lacy fabric. He shook his head and ran back to the truck in full sprint. He ripped open the door and clutched the urn under his arm. Looking towards the sky, he noticed the tornado. A dark funnel obliterating everything in it's wake. He swore again and ran back to her.

She was still sprinting in the woods, up the hill, panting wildly. He called her name and she nodded in acknowledgment, never stopping. He had to give her credit - give her a task and she completed it with wild abandon.

He again took her hand and she squeezed tightly and ran alongside him up the hill. Her bag over his shoulder, her father's urn under his left arm and her hand firmly clasped in his, he pulled her along as fast as she was capable.

Her long dark weave whipped behind her with the black dress. Lightning cracked a tree a couple feet to their left and he pulled her body into his arms and quickly dodged the now falling tree. He placed the urn in her lap as he held her bridal style and she clutched it tightly to her and he clutched her tightly to him.

Without her slowing him down - he could run a lot faster. She breathed heavily in his arms.

They arrived at the shelter shortly after – just two metal doors rising an inch above the ground. He jumped down into the shelter without using the stairs. He tossed her body and her bag onto a nearby bed and flew back to the door, where he bolted it and then shoved a large piece of wood between the two handles.

As he slung chain through the two steel handles of both doors, he could hear her moving around and talking to herself. Was she crazy?

Light suddenly lit a small space of the darkness as he bolted the chains to the cement walls. He secured them in middle when they met with a padlock.

His lupine eyes could easily make out darkness in a forest or house. But this place had no sense of natural lights. He was as blind as she.

He could see the light from her cellphone as she rummaged through the space. Her heart was calm as she looked for something. He could almost see a flash of her white teeth as she smiled and held something to her chest.

"Lighter." She suddenly said, softly. He could see the whites of her eyes facing him.

"Okay?"

"I need a lighter. I found a couple of candles."

He scoffed in a teasing way. "What makes you think I have a lighter?"

He could vaguely see her put her hands on her hips, or something. "I heard about how you are the best fighter in the pack. Why would the best fighter - who fights vampires by the way - not have a lighter on him - which kills vampires, by the way?"

He laughed aloud and stalked towards her. She held her hand out to the left of her body. He pulled the gold Zippo lighter from his pocket and pulled her wrist in the right direction. He placed the warm metal into her hands. Bella flicked the Zippo open and it lit it like a pro with only two fingers, impressively. The darkness filled with a soft, warm, glow. She snapped her wrist and the Zippo snapped closed. Her eyes concentrated as she took the old, tall white candle in a gold saucer and used it to light others she had collected.

"There. Now I can see." She placed them strategically around the space.

Paul studied the now-lighted room. The smell of mildew flowed through the air like a scented candle, making his sensitive nose scrunch in disgust. He had the urge to sneeze.

The wolf quickly cataloged the room. Four cement walls – dark gray and rough in texture. The wall to his left displayed a bunch of slash marks – almost like a tally. To the left was a hand-built wooden shelf. The top housed cans of various sizes – all unlabeled. Blankets and sheets lined the middle shelf and water in old milk jugs decorated the bottom. Directly in front of Paul stood the tiny brunette in front of a wrought iron full sized bed adjourned with a dirty mattress and took up most of the space. A small wooden table with two plastic folding chairs completed the look.

"Interesting," He commented, "Exactly how I pictured one of these storm shelters looking like. Except the bed"

"You would think the place would have cots." She agreed, walking to the wooden shelf. "You haven't been down here?" She questioned curiously as she pulled a blanket from the shelf and lifted it to her nose. She scrunched her face and snapped the blanket out in front of her, dust swirling in the air.

"Nope. Never a reason to."

Bella walked back to the bed and bent over, placing the blanket over the dirty mattress and tucking it into the side. "No time like the present."

She locked eyes with him from across the tiny space. His lip twitched. A slow smile spread across her face. They both burst out laughing.

She fell back on the bed, her small body shivering with laughter. "My life sucks. What worse could happen?"

Paul didn't want to know.


	2. Chapter 2: Horrific

**Copyright infringement is totally not intended. **

Wind howled above the storm shelter almost like a wolf in pain. The sound of trees snapping, debris flying and hail pounding against the door to their shelter was reminiscent of a melody to Bella's life.

The chains on the steel doors rattled as the tornado threatened to rip them open. Crashing thunder and crackling lightning accompanied the tornado's orchestra. Although frightening, something about the music of the storm was somehow soothing.

Then the melody just ends. The silence seems to be overwhelming and louder than moments ago. Bella tilts her head to the side - wondering if what she is hearing is true.

The storm has just vanished.

"Think it's over?" She mutters to Paul, looking down at the gold lighter still in her hands. The initials A.P.L are engraved on the shiny surface. She wants to know what these initials stand for, but she doesn't ask. She knows she doesn't know Paul well enough to ask what seems like a personal question - since he carries a lighter around that doesn't show his name, but somehow seems like a memento to him.

He shrugs his massive shoulders, still standing at the bottom of the concrete steps. "I don't know."

She makes a sound in her throat and returns to studying the lighter. She hears a click and looks up to see that Paul has a phone in his hand.

"I have no service. Do you?" He asked as his thumb fiddles along the screen.

Bella unzips a side pocket in her duffle and removes her phone. After unlocking the screen, she looks in the top corner.

"No," She responds, her shoulders dropping. They have no idea if the storm is over and the idea of not knowing is a little nerve-wracking.

"It just figures," He sighs heavily, "I guess we have to wait it out."

"Wait," Bella remembers she has something that could help. After rummaging through the clothes in the duffle bag, she finds her sketch pad. She pulls the charcoal pencil out of the binder and flips to the newest page.

"I drew this just this morning."

He walks over and sits down on the other end of the cot - keeping at least a foot between them. She doesn't know why he does this and wonders if it's because she hit him or if he is disgusted by her because – in his words – she's a leech lover. She figures she doesn't really want to know the answer. Either way she would be ashamed.

He studies the sketch of the radar of the US. It shows a long chain of storms coming from the west heading towards Washington.

He carefully points towards the closet, careful not to smudge the charcoal. "I think this is the one that just passed. That means this whole chain," He gestures to the upcoming storms, "Is still on the way."

She sighs, studying the sketch. "Well, if what you're saying is right, we haven't seen anything yet."

They remained quiet, each of them looking absently at the sketch. Bella wondered what they were going to do, but it seemed as if they silently agreed that they would not be going anywhere. At least for a couple more hours.

"Why did you draw this?" He asked suddenly breaking the silence. She flinched a little at how loud his voice sounded in the tiny space.

She hitched a shoulder up to her ear with her head cocked to the side a little. "I have no idea. I guess I just felt compelled."

"Compelled?"

She turned to look at him, first noticing how close they seemed to migrate and vaguely noticing how the warm glow of the room made his grey colored eyes look more pronounced against his skin tone.

His skin was lighter than the other wolves, she realized, not as dark, but enough of a permanent tan that he was still considered Native American. He looked almost half paleface - as the tribe called Caucasians - and she thought his skin coloring was actually quite lovely.

The tribe had russet-brown colored skin with the inky black hair and dark brown - almost black colored eyes.

Paul's hair was so dark black, in certain light it looked to have a blue hue to it. Along with his gray eyes - he must have inherited from his mother - who had to have been white - he was a handsome man.

"It was almost like an unexplainable force told me to copy the TV screen this morning. I don't know. It sometimes happens when I have my sketch pad out. I feel like I have to draw something." She frowned, her eyes locked onto his much lighter ones, "I guess I'm just weird."

"You're not weird," He responded instantly. "Sometimes that happens to me. I just feel like I have to do something - whether that something be following a certain scent, going a certain place or direction. It just happens. It is unexplainable."

"It must be your wolf senses. Leading you on a certain path."

"Maybe," Paul took the sketch book from her hands and flipped through the pages backwards. She didn't try to snatch the book back but she could feel her face warming, "These are good." He hummed, "Very good, actually."

Paul stopped at the first page of the book. Sketched into the paper was the dirty red-headed leech. She was standing at the top of a cliff, hair blowing in the wind - almost like a flowing flame - and leaves planted in the red tresses.

Paul snapped the book closed quickly and handed it back to her. He saw that before - just this morning actually - and the detail that went into it was extraordinary. But he was a little freaked out. It felt as if the paleface girl had drawn that image from _his _memory.

The wind began blowing again over head - the sound a mirror image to just a few moments ago. "Here it comes, again."

"This is awful," She declared, "I wonder what it looks like outside. Probably horrible. Image the damage? I just hope everyone is okay."

"I'm sure they are," He placated her, although he kind of doubted it. "The tribe is tough and most residents in Forks would be in the basement of the High School. That's what they do when there's a natural disaster."

"Oh."

Silence continued after that, except for the storm raging overhead. But they both - somehow, someway - felt content in each other's presence that it seemed almost like an impossibility, maybe even a dream that they had fought so violently only mere hours before.

He couldn't stop watching her. How she leaned almost casually against the cement wall – completely uncaring of dust or whatever else may be plastered to these ancient walls. She was actually quite beautiful in the soft glow of the tiny room. He realized that he wanted to know more about her. She was such a calm presence - a valium in the form of a small brunette girl. She was the antithesis to his anxiety, violent ridden existence.

It didn't matter that the world above them seemed to be falling apart. That a storm raged and battered against the steel doors. They were calm and collected in the small shelter - silently enjoying each other's company.

Not that they had another choice.

"Bam! Won again." The brunette exclaimed loudly and swiped her finger against her screen.

Paul jumped at her voice, but quickly settled. He tried to hide his smile as hers brightened victoriously. He would never admit it, but he actually enjoyed her company. A week ago, if he knew he had to be trapped in a fall-out shelter with someone, she would have been the last on his list. A week from now, if he knew again, he would definitely pick her. She was a calm presence. One that he enjoyed immensely.

"How can you be so calm?" He blurted out, his face a little confused. She didn't seem to worry, or fret. It's as if they were here on their own violations. As if they had actually planned to hang out together.

She shrugged her small shoulders and tossed her cellphone on the bed between them. "I don't know. I guess I just see no point in freaking out. It would solve nothing. It's not like we can do anything about what's going on."

"You're right."

She turned her body to face his, his knees brushing against his outer thigh. She stilled for a moment, but relaxed and didn't remove her appendages.

"You're calm too, you know. It's quite surprising." She told him, albeit hesitantly.

"Opposed to how hyper I usually am?" He didn't take offence at her observation.

She laughed, her cheeks lightly blushing. "No. I meant how anybody else would react." She tilted her head to the side, her eyes coming to rest on the side of the bridge of his nose. "Although, you're usually not calm, I wouldn't exactly say hyper."

He smirked, "Violent? Angry?"

"I suppose."

He thought about it for a split second before he decided to protest. "Things change Bella. Don't let what happened earlier form your opinion of me." He nudged his thigh into her knee. "It has been years since you've been home."

The light from earlier suddenly left her eyes and her lips turned down. He suddenly wondered what he had said wrong. When he opened his mouth to speak, she shut down and turned away from him, bringing her knees out of contact.

Bella sketched in her pad while sitting on the large bed – her brows furrowed and bottom lip caught between her teeth. It had been almost an hour since she last spoke to Paul. He was sitting at the old, dirty white plastic table. The large wolf-man was leaning back, two legs on the dingy chair off the ground. He was still, his balance perfected.

With his arms crossed over his sculpted, shirtless chest, he was a vision in the low dim of the candlelight. Bella's eyes trailed over his long neck to his collarbone, lingering at a small freckle and then to his brown nipples.

Her hand moved across the sketch pad without her consent. Looking down, she noticed that she had drawn the right side of his profile with extra emphasis and perfect shading around the freckle on his collarbone. She blushed in the darkness and quickly snapped her book shut – slamming the pencil down on top.

She knew she had shut herself off – it was her defense mechanism. When he mentioned that she hadn't been home for years, her mind had gone to the memories of why. She didn't like to think of those dark years spent inside of her own head.

When she had finally deemed herself healthy and stable – shit hit the fan once again. Charlie's body...

She gasped, her hands coming to clutch her heart. The pain… it was like nothing she had ever felt before.

"I was in a mental institution," She heard herself saying without her permission.

The chair Paul had occupied slammed back to the ground, the sound making her flinch. His eyes opened and his arms uncrossed. He tilted his head to look at her – curiosity and remorse on his face. He didn't say anything, he just waited for her to continue. He seemed non-judgmental.

"When Edward left me," Bella started, her hands coming to rest on top of the sketch pad on her lap. She fiddled with the charcoal pencil. "I was a wreck. I thought I would never get over it. Jacob helped, but I could never actually give him what he wanted."

"Your heart…" Paul spoke, his body now fully turned towards her.

Bella laughed harshly. "I thought I didn't have a heart. I thought that it had been ripped out my chest. I tried, I really did. But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't see myself with him. He was my best friend and I loved him."

"Not _in _love."

Bella shrugged and walked over to the three level shelf in the room. She scanned the items and found a jar with clear liquid in it. She reached for the jar and tried to open it. She failed. The cover was on very tight and must have been that way for a long time. She got angry. She wanted what she thought was in it. Placing the jar between her knees, she clenched her legs tightly and used both hands to crank the cover open. Nothing.

The small brunette walked over to the dingy table and placed the jar in front of Paul with a sweet smile.

He scrunched his eyebrows and studied her face quickly. She waited, not blushing, and hitched a shoulder to her ear.

Paul quickly opened the jar easily and she sighed loudly. It figured.

She sniffed at the contents and took a sip, the clear liquid burning down her throat and settling in her stomach. She passed it to Paul who took a large swig.

"Moonshine." He said, while passing it back.

Bella took a seat, and placed her elbows on the table, the jar between her hands.

"No. Not _in _love." She finally admitted, her eyes glossy.

"You can't make yourself fall in love with someone," He told her, "It's not your fault."

"I wanted to. I really did. It would have been so easy to be with Jacob but I was so broken." The pale-face girl smiled wistfully, but sadly. "One day in his garage, we were sitting on the sofa drinking warm soda."

It was just after Bella had graduated from high school and she and Jacob were celebrating. They had snuck some rum from Billy that they had poured into the coke cans.

"He confessed his love for me. Telling me that he wanted a future filled with love and kids and growing old together. I was scared shitless when I heard this. With alcohol in me, I told him I loved him but not like _that_.

"He got angry and stormed around the garage, accusing me of still being in love with a "leech", She used her fingers as air quotes, "Although I still felt like I was a broken, insecure little girl, I had actually gotten over Edward and the Cullens' abandonment. He used Edward's words against me. Told me I was not worth it and just a good distraction until I left for college. He broke me all over again."

Paul was now staring deeply into her eyes as she chugged some moonshine before passing it to him. He took a slow sip, his eyes on hers over the rim of the glass.

Paul licked his lips – her eyes focused on this action – and spoke slowly. "I have heard this in the pack mind. I might have had my prejudices towards you but I was very angry. And I wasn't the only one."

She hummed and tilted her head to the side. "I figured. I got a lot of pity glances from the pack after that. I couldn't stand it. I locked myself away in my bedroom, contemplating my existence and what it was worth. My fa-father," She stuttered, "Was miserable. Months and months of screaming and nightmares and "Zombie-Bella", I couldn't do it to him anymore.

"I figured I would leave him and everyone in Forks and La Push. I was just making their lives miserable anyways."

He was curious. "Where did you go?"

She snorted. "I didn't have anywhere to go, except my mother's. I went to Florida and repeated the whole cycle. I had nightmares, but this time I screamed out about things that were secret. Werewolves and vampires.

"My mother heard all of this and I was forced to have a psych evaluation. I was deemed depressed and unfit for society, whatever that means. I was locked up in a mental ward where I was heavily medicated."

"Fucking bitch," Paul muttered in regards to her mother.

"Yeah, she didn't even come to Charlie's funeral," Bella huffed and took a small sip of moonshine, her eyes now glassy and her mind foggy. "Anyways, that's where I was, for three years. I was fucked up at first, but towards that last year, I decided that the only way to leave the institution was to convince the doctors that I didn't believe in vampires and werewolves. That I was on my meds – which I never actually took – and I was cured. Better now. I was released after those shitty years and came back to Fork's. I missed my father.

"The first week was good. We bonded and talked a lot. I had a suspicion that he knew more than he ever let on, but he never said anything. The second week I was home, there was a bonfire. It was great, perfect. But Charlie said he wasn't up to it. He and Billy drank too many beers earlier in the day while fishing.

"I refused to be escorted home from the party. It was awkward being around all you guys after so many years." Her shoulders began trembling.

Paul placed a hand over hers on the table. She flipped her hand and threaded her fingers through his. She squeezed in appreciation.

Paul had to admit to himself that he was completely intrigued. He had gotten so many details about her life and she was actually going to talk about Charlie's death. He didn't want to be an asshole but he was really curious about what happened. So he didn't speak, he just waited.

"When I- I arrived, the house had life. The lights were on, the TV was blaring some sports thing," She mumbled, her eyes now downcast and her hand clenching and unclenching around his, "He was sitting in front of the TV in his favorite recliner. I walked in the house and greeted him. He… He seemed fine. He didn't answer, but he usually never did. I didn't think anything of it. When I went to the kitchen for a glass of water, I offered to get him something."

She was still trembling, both her hands now clasped around his. She lifted her head and stared into his eyes. He flinched at the horror swirling in her brown orbs. He brought his other hand and placed in on top of hers. Both their hands clutched the others.

She took a shaky breath, "When he didn't respond, I figured he had fallen asleep in his recliner. He had done this countless times before. But the recliner was old and I was worried about his back. I went to shake him awake. I-I-I barely touched his shoulder…Just my fingers… a small graze…his head…"

Paul stared in horror, he was praying that this wasn't going where he thought it was.

She continued, tears now streaming down her pale cheeks, eyes alight with revulsion, shock, disgust, and dread… terror.

"His head… Just…fell off…detached…." She was gasping. "Fell to the floor….rolled to my feet…his lifeless eyes staring up at me… I-I I stared… Then I screamed…

"I don't know what happened next. But the police had to remove me from his headless body where I somehow ended up curled in the lap holding, while I stared down at his head… Oh god… Who would…? I don't know… no one was around… and I just… I don't know."

Paul's eyes were wide. Charlie Swan was…Oh god…He didn't even want to think it.

But Bella said it out loud, the sound seemingly so vociferous in the quiet room.

"He was decapitated."


	3. Chapter 3: Stranded

NOTHING BELONGS TO ME. NADA. RATED M FOR LANGUAGE, HORRIFIC IMAGES AND LEMONS. HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY

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Like in slow motion, her tears escaped her eyelashes, ran in rivulets down her cheeks and disappeared in to her mouth that was opened in a gasp.

Paul watched helpless as he held Bella's hands. Her entire body was trembling; sweat ran down her temples and disappeared into her hairline.

He stared at her purple-black nail polish.

He wanted to do something – anything – to help the poor girl. He couldn't even comprehend what she had gone through. Who would decapitate Chief Swan and then put his head back on his body? It was inconceivable.

Without thinking, he stood with her hands still in his, and pulled her out of the chair. She didn't protest, but looked at him questionably. He acted on instinct – wanting to comfort her – and pulled her into his arms. She came willingly, pulling her hands away and wrapping her arms around his waist.

He didn't hesitate. The wolf-man wrapped his long, sinewy arms around the tiny girl and buried his face in her hair. _Vanilla,_ He thought.

Her trembling and sobs subsided and she sighed. Paul knew very little about human contact – considering he didn't even like to be touched – but it seemed to help. Immensely.

He rested his chin atop her head and slowly swayed back and forth – Bella's black dress swishing along her thighs. When her knees began to give out in fatigue, he gently led her over to the bed. Reaching behind his back, he began to pry her hands from his waist.

"No," She moaned – her arms clenching tighter.

With a lot of maneuvering since she refused to let go, he ended up leaning against the wall – his legs spread on the bed and her small body – arms still locked - nestled snugly against his. Her head didn't move from its position on his chest.

The wolf held the small girl against his chest as his mind ran rampant. She had told him everything – things that he had been way too curious to ask – but she did. He felt he owed her in return.

"Are you awake?" He whispered softly, wind howling and chains rattling against the door the only other sounds in the almost near darkened silence.

Bella sniffled and rubbed her forehead against his chest. "Yes."

He took a deep breath – her upper body rising with the movement – and slowly exhaled. He was going to reveal a huge secret. A secret that could forever change the way everyone looked at life on the reservation.

A secret he had never told anyone before this.

But, wasn't that the point? She had divulged her wicked past. He owed her the same courteous intentions. He was… he didn't know what he was. But he felt _compelled_, her same words from earlier when describing her sketches.

"My name is Adrien," He whispered in to the darkness.

Bella immediately lifted her head and stared into his grey orbs. He wasn't looking at her, but at a small crack in the wall. His arms remained, cocooning her body tightly against his.

He continued, never noticing her movement. "I was born Adrien Paul. I don't know my real last name."

"The lighter," She said suddenly, all her own demons and problems fading when his took precedence. She remembered the initials engraved on the gold zippo lighter. _A.P.L_

"I was born to a white woman in Hoquiam. From the stories I have heard, around the time of my conception, there was a Latin festival. I don't know his name, but my mother hooked up with this Latin peddler who was on the run from the cops."

Bella was now leaning up between his legs, her eyes trained on his face. He still didn't make eye contact.

"I'm scared. Can you see why?" He questioned, his eyes darting around the room. But Bella. She actually did figure it out.

"You're not Quileute."

"No." He said. The words seemingly so final. Bella processed this. If Paul wasn't Quileute, there was no wolf gene in him. Unless his father was from another tribe, but she had never heard of any kind of Latin shape shifters.

"No," He repeated, "I have no idea why I phased."

"Maybe your father had a shifter gene," She suggested although she didn't really even believe it herself.

Paul scoffed, his eyes turning towards her. He didn't look upset, just confused. And angry. "But a shifter gene that allows me to turn into a wolf? A shifter gene that allows me to mentally link with the Quileute tribe?"

"Yeah," she mumbled, "Hasn't anyone noticed this?"

"No. I've kept a pretty tight leash on my thoughts. My skin is already lighter than my brothers' but they figure I just got the gene from my father," He shook his head, "Well who they think is my father."

Bella lifted her eyebrows in question. She had the sudden urge to know everything about Paul – or Adrien.

"My mother remarried when I was two," He answered her, his eyes roaming over her face. "We took his last name. Lahote."

"There has to be a gene in there somewhere," She reasoned, her mind wandering. "People don't just turn in to wolves for no reason. Maybe when the Cullens moved to town, it activated the gene."

He sighed and sat up, her body sliding from his. She tried not to show her disappointment. She hadn't had human affection in a long time and she was surprisingly enjoying it. With Paul of all people.

"When the other guys were younger," He started. "I wouldn't exactly say they were small – but they were normal. Average height, average weight."

Bella agreed. When she first hung around with Jacob, he was cute, and she didn't want to be mean, but he was average. There was nothing really that special about him. When he phased, he grew several inches – maybe a foot – and bulked up immensely.

"When the Quileute tribe phases, their muscles stretch. Their ligaments lengthen. That's why the phase is so painful. Their bones break. This all happens to accommodate the wolf who is very large. They grow to above average height. Six two to seven feet tall. They lose all body fat and gain complete muscle in its place.

"I was always big. Even as a child. I didn't go through the painful phase. It just happened. I was already 6"5 right before I phased. I was already muscular. Just one day, out of nowhere – "He shook his head, "Poof. And I'm a wolf. It didn't hurt. I wasn't angry – which is usually the number one contributing factor."

He continued, "I didn't really think anything of it until more guys starting changing. They all could pass as brothers. I look completely different. My muscle mass, my facial features, even my skin color and my eyes.

"I am not Quileute. Not even half."

Bella stared at his handsome face – understanding his words but completely confused at the same time. It didn't really make sense. Why would an outsider phase and share a metal link with the pack? If there was a gene in him – from another tribe – wouldn't he hear their voices in his head instead of the La Push guys?

She thought about what he said. HE did look completely different. She already noted the difference in his skin color and his gray eyes. But his features were different. His eyebrows were more arched whereas the Quileute's were straighter. His lips more full than thin. His nose thinner as opposed to wider. His jawline more chiseled than theirs.

Her eyes trailed down his body. His body was longer and leaner. Ripped with muscles as it was – he didn't have the same bulkiness or bulging muscles. He was more beautiful, she thought.

But more than his looks, she felt as if she had known him for a long time. She felt comfortable with him. More than anybody else. Maybe ever.

"There has to be a reason," She said – her eyes trailing along his body. She pulled the top of her dress away from her chest. She felt hot all of a sudden. Was it warming up outside? Was the storm ending?

A crash of thunder was heard and the metal doors rattled. She supposed not.

"Sometimes there aren't reasons for anything," Paul – Adrien – responded. "Sometimes things just _are." _

She snorted, "I don't believe that. Everything has to happen for a reason. Just _has _to. If not, what else are we supposed to believe? What would be the point of all this suffering?"

He stood up then, his temper getting the best of him. He was angry again. "There's not a purpose for anything Bella. Look around," He gestured his arms around them, "What could possibly be the reason for this? This storm that is destroying our homes? Your father dying…"She winced, but he continued, oblivious, "Even you're sketching. What could possibly be the reason you are so compelled to draw? Have you ever even sketched a day in your life before this strange compulsion?"

"No," She whispered. "I couldn't even draw a stick figure."

"Exactly. But all of a sudden all this shit happens. I phase with no explanation or _reason _whatsoever. You sketch things that have already happened or are going to," Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

He stormed over to the bed and pulled her sketch pad from under her leg. She tried to grasp it, but he was too fast and failed. He flipped to the first page.

"This picture. Of the redhead. I saw this just his morning. With my own eyes. What could be the reason?"

"I was… I was just thinking about her. I just drew her how I thought she would look."

"This, right here," He held the drawing close to her face and pointed to the bald spot on the leech's scalp, "I pulled her hair out this morning. You drew this weeks ago, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"So… What's the _fucking _reason?!" He shouted and she flinched back. She stood up then, angry as well. She wouldn't be cowered for something that wasn't even her fault.

She tugged the sketch pad out of his hands and tossed it across dingy room. "Everything you are saying makes me believe that there _is _a reason for everything!"

"You're insufferable!"

"You're a fucking asshole!" She shot back quickly, "There are way too many coincidences especially my sketches that must have some fucking purpose!"

"You're being an idiot! Thing's just happen! Shit happens. It's life. Stop looking for an explanation for everything!" He fumed, his nostrils flaring.

"Go to hell Paul. Seriously. No wait!" She screeched, stomping over to him. She poked him hard in the chest. "Rot in hell, _Adrien_!"

He stared down at her – her chest heaving. Her head was tilted all the way back and she was actually making eye contact with him. Her pupils were dilated, heart racing.

Wind rattled the chains on the door. Tree branches could be heard snapping outside – accompanied by the rushing sound of wind and loud crackles of thunder.

Paul grabbed her upper arms and pulled her into his body. She fumed, trying to get away. He held tighter and leaned down, crashing his lips against her. She gasped and tried to push against his chest. He wasn't having any of it. He couldn't help himself, she just was so beautiful in her rage.

Grabbing the back of her head, he pushed his lips tighter against her, forcing her mouth open with his tongue. She responded instantly, her hands stopped pushing him away and tried pulling his closer. Her nails embedded in the skin on his chest for leverage. Her tongue tangled with his, their teeth violently clashing. They pushed towards each other, trying to get closer.

She bit his lip suddenly, viciously. He pulled back at once, his hands still holding her upper arms. Her eyes narrowed while she breathed heavily. She smacked him across the face.

He stared at her, his eyes glazed and almost black in color. She suddenly smirked wicked and jumped him. Unprepared, he crashed into the cement wall that his back was too, his hands automatically coming to rest on her waist as she wrapped her legs around his. Bella tried to pin him to the wall as she kissed and bit harshly up and down the side of his neck. When she got the freckle on his collar bone, she smoothed her tongue over the mark.

He growled and grabbing her head, smashed his lips back to hers. As their tongues danced, her hands and nails ran roughly around his upper body. She scraped down his biceps, over his shoulders and past his nipples. His hands began their own circuit on his body. Tangling in her long hair, running past her shoulders, and sneaking beneath her dress to hold her body even closer.

She moaned into his mouth and ground down on him. He slammed her into the opposite wall with the tally marks, loose bricks and cement falling to the floor. She didn't mind and just moaned again. He pinned her against the wall with his body and licked up her neck and nibbled on her ear.

His hands sneaked up her dress again and toyed with the edges of her panties. She pushed him away suddenly and dropped back to her feet. His hands stayed on her hips, under her dress. She smiled evilly and using one hand, pulled the drawstring on his basketball shorts. Without them tied, they fell to the ground. Following her lead, he tore the black panties from her body and hiked her dress up.

Bella used Paul's shoulders for leverage and jumped up again, her legs coming back around his waist. He pushed her back into the cement wall and stepped out of his shorts. He leaned away, his hips holding hers in place and pushed on her sternum until she was flush against the wall.

Her pupils were wide, her lip between her teeth. Paul pulled the straps of her dress down, revealing a lacy black bra. She watched him under hooded eyes – not protesting. Grabbing the bra in the center, he ripped it away from her body – her chest heaving with the movement. They were now both fully nude against the wall – except for the dress bunched around her waist.

He had to admit – she was gorgeous. He grabbed a breast in one hand – kneading it roughly – and trailed his other up her thigh. As he got closer to her center, her head fell forward on his shoulder, her long hair trailing down his back.

Just as he was about to touch her, she paused, her head lifting. "Wait."

"What?" He asked confused. He studied her face and saw that she was staring at something at their feet.

"Forget it," He said distantly, his eyes moving away from the old, browned leather bound book. He touched her and she moaned, her head falling back to the wall.

Thunder boomed in the distant, although her gasp was from his fingers fondling her. She crushed her lips back to his – ignoring the incessant rattling of chains, the taste of moonshine and the mysterious book at their feet.

"Forget it," She breathed into his mouth, her teeth sharply stinging his lip and tongue soothing over the bite. She grabbed him roughly and thrust her pelvis towards his fingers.

He looked into her brownish-hazel eyes that were trailing down between their bodies to watch what she was doing. He groaned at the feeling of her hand wrapped around him.

"Now?" He asked, his eyes on her rising and falling breasts.

"Now." She moaned, her hips jerking wildly.

They came together at the same time something crashed above their shelter. Moaning and biting and gasping, they came together. Again and again. She moaned loudly in the candlelight as he thrust his hips. He growled and removed himself from her body. She whimpered in protest. He grabbed her shoulder and shoved her towards the table. He roughly bent her body over it and stood behind her.

She gasped loudly as he entered her again. The sound of their skin smacking together, his hand coming down numerous times on her ass and their moans were almost louder than the storm.

She stood up, them still attached and raked her nails down the side of his face as they kissed furiously. He groaned, angry and pushed his back down to the table. Bella moaned and kicked her leg out behind her, coming in contact with his knee, not expecting it, he stumbled backwards. She stood up and pushed him on the bed.

She climbed atop his prone body and rode him – her hands smacking and clawing at his chest. His fingers dug into her hip bones. She leaned forward and thrust her tongue into his mouth. He sucked on it.

He flipped her over and put her legs on his shoulders.

"Finish it," She growled, digging her heels into his back. And he did. He finished it wildly, both of their gasps and moans echoing in the room.

Then he collapsed on her. She wrapped her arms around his sweaty back and smoothed her hands up and down – gently now, a direct contradiction to their coupling.

He snorted. He just royally fucked the leech-lover. And they both enjoyed it.

"I wonder what's in that book," She pondered breathlessly, her legs still up around his shoulders.

He hummed, his body shaking with laughter.

Who would have thought?


	4. Chapter 4: Folklore

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

I hope you guys enjoy this new chapter. Took a lot of work. All mistakes are my own.

* * *

He wanted her. Oh god, did he want her. Again. Paul didn't want to whisper sweet nothings in her ear and nuzzle her neck sweetly. This wasn't some kind of fated candy-kisses type of romance. He didn't love the small pale-face. How could he when he had only known her for mere hours? This was the primal-surging lust of two bodies coming together. The feeling of wanting to leave your own skin and immerse yourself into another's. The wolf-man should have been feeling guilty for he – or _they_ – had completely taken advantage of the entire situation.

They were both messed up – fucked, in the true sense – beyond repair, souls. Their hurt had turned to anger. That anger to insatiable lust. They were attracted to each other.

But, no. He didn't feel guilty. Shaking his head, he realized he was more resigned to the fact that he wanted her. The little pale-face ex-vampire-loving girl who was so broken but somehow strong. He wanted her and judging by the way she had looked at him, she wanted him too.

The girl had fallen asleep after their ravenous coupling. Her body was splayed across the bed, the candle-light lovingly touching the soft swells and curves of her body. They weren't cuddling like a normal couple, her head on his chest or him behind her – holding her body close against his. The only way he could use to describe their position would be a dog-pile.

After their session, although his stamina was very high, he had flopped – stomach down – onto the bed. It had been a long morning and afternoon. Chasing the red-head and running from the storm. It was tiring – the little bit of moonshine probably didn't help much.

Bella seemed to agree – her body crashing diagonally on top of his, her pelvis resting across his lower back and her arms spread out, hands on either side of her head. Her head rested closely to his. He could look over his shoulder and see the curve of her shoulder and the gentle line of the side of her ribs to her hip. She was a vision, he thought. A naked vision across his back, her hair mussed up, splayed across his shoulder's and her sweet sweat slicked skin sticking to his. He found comfort in her light body covering his – like a warm blanket.

The summer storm continued to rage – seemingly never-ending. He should have checked what time it was, but his phone was across the room in his shorts and he had no intention of moving.

As his eyelids began to flutter, the candle near the wooden table seemed to glow a little brighter – shining like a beacon on that worn journal that lay forgotten on the floor. His eyes trailed from the journal to the wall. In their rampaging lust, they must have knocked some bricks loose, causing the hidden book to fall and reveal it's self.

Bella abruptly huffed and sat up, kneeling between his legs. Paul startled and glanced over his shoulder. Her hair was a chaotic mess, with curls framing her facing and running down her nude body to just above her hips. Her form seemed to shimmer in the glow of the candles.

_They would burn out eventually, _Paul thought vaguely. _Unlike my lust._

He studied her petite and feminine body with small gentle curves, flat soft stomach and swelling hips. But it was her face that captivated him. Her large, dark eyes studied him, ablaze with rapture and longing as they caressed the backside of his form. He smirked over his shoulder as those eyes of hers lingered on his bottom. Bella raised her head to gaze at him, unblushing and unabashed at having been caught.

A smile still lingered as he asked her what was wrong, considering she had sat up so abruptly.

"I can't stop thinking about it," She replied, sweeping her long mane into her hands and pulling all of it to the side.

Paul's eyes brightened and the smirk came back. Full force. "Not that," She protested, her hand smacking his butt, "The journal."

The smile faded from his handsome face as she jumped from the bed and glided over to the fallen book. But he did watch her walk away and when she bent over to pick up the book, he was instantly behind her – his hands coming to rest on her hips. She startled a little and turned in his arms. Bella reached on her tip-toes and placed a kiss on his lips. Before he could respond, she fell back to her heels and smacked him in the shoulder with the book.

Paul laughed and followed her nude body back to the bed. As he approached, her eyes trailed down to his waist. Fire lit within them and suddenly the book lay forgotten. She gave him a smirk of her own and dropped to her knees in front of him.

_Oh god._ Paul whimpered in his head. Or maybe out loud, he didn't know.

* * *

Bella sat cross-legged on the bed, now in a pair of tight shorts and a camisole that were in her duffle bag. The wolf-man was back in his own shorts. His naked body had proved too distracting and she really wanted to look at this journal that was so obviously hidden on purpose.

Opening the cover with a small creak, she immediately noticed half the pages in the front had been torn out. Her purple-black nail polish shined as she thumbed the torn edges.

She read aloud, the small written words, surprisingly legible although the journal was noticeably old. "After the fight with the cold one, where my beloved Tasia had sacrificed her precious life, I had decided to visit the local Shaman."

Paul gasped, cutting off her words. "Taha-Aki." His whisper was short, violent and breathy.

She got the strangest feeling in her chest – almost like fear but also a fluttering. She fought the urge to snap the book shut. "Who's that?"

Paul quickly supplied Bella with the information he had. He told her of Taha-Aki as one of the last great chiefs and spirit warriors. How Taha-Aki was the first shifter. He also explained the sacrifice of the third wife.

"He lay beside Tasia's body for three days, in his wolf form. Then he went into the forest and never returned. It's actually unknown if he's still out there, mourning her death."

"That's incredibly sad," Bella murmured.

"It is," He agreed.

She smiled slightly at him and leaned forward. He met her and they shared a brief but sweet kiss.

Bella turned back to the journal, "Do you think this could really be his? You said he phased and vanished into the woods. But it says here that he visited a Shaman after Tasia's death."

He shrugged. "Keep reading," he insisted.

Bella took a breath, "I pleaded with The Shaman on my knees for him to use which ever gift the great wolf had given him to bring back my love. My heart. But, he had refused, calmly claiming that my Tasia's sacrifice had a true purpose. Whatever purpose could that be? I raged. The shaman forced me to drink a mysterious tea to calm my overflowing grief. He then explained this legend that the great wolf have supposedly shown him."

"This page," Bella pointed as she stopped reading Taha-Aki's words. Paul followed the motion. "It states the facts of this legend The Shaman had told him."

Paul eyes scanned the page as he spoke, "As the great wolf had shown The Shaman on his spirit walk."

He breathed lightly, while leaning over Bella. His breath gently ticked her ear, which she tried to ignore. "The great wolf had told The Shaman that there was a legend to demolish all cold ones. He said that he couldn't bring back my Tasia, but he could help me seek revenge."

Paul's mind was wandering. If there was a legend or a way to rid the world of leeches, he would have thought the tribe would know. That they would be in the stories told at bonfires and council meetings. They definitely would have been told.

Bella picked up where he left off – noticing his distraction. "The Shaman spoke, his ancient eyes cold and distant.

"You need to find The Marked One. Male or female. They shall be marked by both cold-one and shifter. They shall have many talents. Rapid healing from injury – within reasonable circumstances, of course. Shall have the knowledge and gift of foresight. Shall have telekinesis – the ability the move, stop, objects with their mind.

"The Sacrifice of Tasia, your beloved shall not be in vain. The sacrifice of a human will set the legend – prophecy – in motion. "

"But my love had killed herself, without knowledge of this madness at which you speak." I spoke, my voice angry.

"Does not matter much. You just need the blood of the sacrificed human to which died within supernatural means."

"What else, Shaman, what else to seek my revenge?"

"The Chosen One. Find him. He shall be a shifter with no such connection to the tribe. He will be chosen at random to shift. Because of his mind, strength and instincts. He will, without cause, morph into a wolf. This has to be because he must have no relations to our tribe, unless he decides to. He shall be gifted – beyond a shifter's means – although his gift in unforeseen at this moment.

Find these people, Taha-Aki and you shall eliminate the entire cold-one race. Forever."

Bella stopped – the journal falling limply to her lap. Her hands felt numb and her stomach sunk – she suddenly felt on a ride that she couldn't get off of. Paul stared blankly at her, but she could see his jaw clenching.

She leaned towards him and placed a hand on his face. "Hey," she whispered. "It's alright. It doesn't mean anything."

He made eye contact, his gray orbs flashing like the storm outside with repressed emotions. "You were right, you know. Before."

She frowned, "About what?"

Paul lifted a brow as his eyes narrowed. "When you said everything happens for a reason. You were right."

She smiled slightly and grasped his hand. He entertwined their fingers. Bella pulled closer – him allowing her to. She licked her lips and kissed his tenderly. But it seemed his mouth was a beacon for her – calling her. An aphrodisiac. Their tongues tangled softly, worked together. Their lips moved in sync. The kiss was anything but ravenous. It was tender, affectionate, almost loving. She pulled away, a little overwhelmed.

"Since when do you admit you're wrong?" She teased trying to escape the feeling that had overcame her.

Paul licked his lips and seemed to suck on his tongue. _Is he savoring my kiss? _She questioned herself and then shook her head.

"I said you were right, not that I was wrong," he smirked, seemingly pleased with himself.

Bella laughed. "Same thing."

"Shut up."

They smiled at each other as the mood lightened.

But she had to ask, even if it would ruin the mood and put the frown back on his face. "So, what do you think?"

"I know it all might sound crazy, but I somehow believe it." He looked incredulous at his own words.

"Me too." She breathed, "You're the chosen one."

"And you're the marked one."

Her face immediately scrunched in confusion. There was no possible way she could be that person that the legend had spoke of. She was a weak human girl who had just gotten out of a mental hospital. Plus, she wasn't marked by both species – wolf and vampire.

"It's not possible. I'm just an average human. I can't ever be part of taking down the entire vampire race."

Paul studied her face. "Your sketches. I think it's the beginning of the foresight The Shaman had talked about."

She shook her head, fiercely and in denial. "Nope. No way. I'm not even marked."

The wolf grabbed her hand and turned it over, tracing his finger along her wrist. "No one has ever survived a vampire bite. Not that we know of. They either die or turn."

She stared down at the scar – almost silver in appearance. It sometimes glistened in the sun, so she always made sure to wear long sleeve shirts. It was also cold to the touch. And hard.

"I'm not marked by a wolf though." she frowned in confusion, somehow starting to believe this nonsense. "And I definitely can't move things with my mind." She added with a laugh.

He nodded, his mind running through the possibilities. If this could be true, then the world wouldn't have any vampires. An almost perfect world, if he gave his opinion.

"We could make that happen."

Silence loomed among them, almost deafening. Bella stared blankly ahead, processing all this information. She spoke slowly, and quietly, "I don't even know if I want to rid the world of vampires."

Paul scoffed and released her wrist harshly. "Are you fucking kidding me? After everything?"

She knew what he was talking about. "We don't even know if that was a vampire."

"Was there any blood at the scene?"

"No," she whispered, resigned. But then her head snapped up. "Yes, I know what you're going to say. Who else could have killed your father, Bella? Who else would drain his blood?"

Paul smiled and tilted his head, "Not in those exact words, but yes."

"We still don't know if any of this is true. Yes, it's a huge coincidence and yes, it explains your random shifting. But you and I? Eliminating the vampire race? That's a huge fucking thing. And not all vampires deserve to die."

He looked at her incredulously, questioning her sanity. "What the hell, Bella? Even if you don't want to kill your friendly neighborhood vampires," He laughed mockingly, "Imagine the power you could have. Healing. Telekinesis. Precognition. Imagine the possibilities."

She laughed at him, "You're just pre-programmed to hate any and all vampires. You're biased. Some are actually not evil." She rolled her eyes at him. "Wow. Surprising."

"You sound like an idiot. Just like years ago. Protecting your wonderful leeches. How pathetic."

She stood up, her nostrils flaring. "I'm not protecting anybody. I'm just thinking logically. We can't kill them all. It's impossible. Plus, there are good ones. I'm sure of it."

He leaned back against the cement wall, stretching his legs out on the bed and crossing them. He stared at her thighs. Her creamy, milky thighs. "What good ones? Besides that leech family you used to run around with -

"The Cullens," She supplied.

"How many other vampires have you met that were friendly and not deserving of death?" He continued, talking over her.

She didn't have an answer and they both knew it. "Even if this works," She changed the subject, "I wouldn't know where to find any. Are we supposed to travel around the world together killing vampires? Seems ludicrous."

"Yes. That's exactly what we are supposed to do." A wicked gleam came into his eye as he cracked his knuckles. This idea was sounding better and better to him. "And we can find them. If you're The Marked One, your foresight will tell us where to find them."

"What then, Paul? Huh? How could I protect myself?"

"I would protect you," He vowed, his eyes sincere on hers.

"What about a large coven? You can't protect me and fight on your own. Even if I can heal, Taha-Aki's words said in reasonable limits. I won't heal from a ripped out heart or a shot through the head."

He pondered this for a moment. "The telekinesis. It said you would be able to stop or move things with your mind."

"So?" She asked with her hands on her hips. His eyes followed the movement.

"So." He replied mockingly in a high pitched voice. "You could stop them. Freeze them basically."

She sighed loudly, exasperated, "It says objects, not beings. Not live vampires."

Paul slapped his hands against his thighs, frustrated. "Honestly Bella, I'm hoping that after I mark you, your foresight would tell us more."

"Mar- Mark me?" She stuttered.

"Yes. You already have one from a cold-one, now you need a mark from a wolf," He raised his index and middle finger to his chin and rubbed it. It reminded her of an evil villain plotting world domination. But maybe that's what Paul was doing. "I'm thinking I have to do it in wolf-form. There's no way to mark you in this form, unless I bite you. But for some reason, I don't think it would work."

"Some reason? Are you just making this all up?" Bella snipped.

"No, my gut is telling me."

She rubbed her hand down her face, suddenly exhausted. "It's your instincts. The Shaman said The Chosen One was chosen because of his strength, instincts and mind. Your instincts must be better than most."

"Yeah, they have never steered me wrong before." He replied, suddenly excited about the whole prospect. This legend – or prophecy – if it was real could mean a lot to the entire human race.

She sat next to him, her outer thigh brushing his knee. "I'm not agreeing right now, let's just make that clear," she gave him a look that said no arguing, "But how would your wolf mark me?"

He pushed his knee further into her thigh. "I am completely aware when I am wolf. It's not him and me. We are one in the same. I just turn into that. My mind doesn't change when I shift, just my body." He told her, to calm her nerves, he guessed. He didn't want her to think he turned into some rapid animal that had no knowledge of human communication.

"I could either bite you or scratch you with my claws." He continued. "My teeth are sharper, which might be dangerous, considering they are designed to bite through marble."

"A scratch from your claws?" She questioned, "That doesn't sound so horrible."

He wasn't going to let her romanticize this, "It would be more of a gash. They are capable of tearing through marble also, but only with extreme force. The teeth are deadly. Even if you touched my canine when I was shifted, you would cut your finger open."

"A gash. As in blood." She murmured, her eyes seeking out the cement wall to avoid his. He could tell this whole conversation made her nervous.

"Yes," He answered, "I believe there would need to be a scar. Like your wrist."

"There has to be venom in this," She told him, looking down to her wrist, "It's hard, cold and shimmers slightly. Edward probably didn't get it all." She tilted her head towards him, "That would mean you would leave traces of some sort in my system too. Maybe these things – DNA of vampire and wolfs? - counteract to give me these powers, but I remain human. I don't know. Maybe."

"That would actually make sense," Paul looked at her in awe, amazed by her thinking. "A wolf bite to a vampire causes extreme pain because of our saliva. A vampire bite to a wolf, if not removed, kills. We're already a wolf. There's no such thing as a wolf-vampire hybrid, so the venom can't change us. But if a human has both, somehow, someway, it would make sense that they would counteract each other and the human would receive the abilities and powers of both."

"Vampires have gifts when changed," Bella continued, "Venom in a human bloodstream, not enough to turn, but enough to linger would enhance whatever they were special at. Edward could understand people when he was human, when changed, he could read minds. Same with others. It enhances their human abilities into something extraordinary. A power."

"Exactly." Paul agreed. "The DNA in the wolf if it was to run through a human bloodstream would probably give them abilities a wolf has, without the shifting. Enhanced healing. Maybe even hearing and sense of smell."

Bella stood then, a little frantic. "If these two opposite things are running through the bloodstream, doesn't that mean if the blood is drained, they wouldn't exist? If there was enhanced healing, the blood would replenish, but the components from the two different species would cease to exist."

"No no." Paul replied, "That wouldn't happen. You wouldn't lose your powers if you were drained, because the two marks still exist on your body and those two marks would still contain the appropriate DNA to mesh. It would be impossible, actually, to ever lose them."

Bella then laughed, her head tilting back – hair cascading down her back. "We're talking like we are scientists, when we are anything but."

"Speak for yourself, I did good in science class."

She giggled and placed a hand on his thigh, almost unconsciously. They were comfortable with each other, he realized. He wasn't ashamed by his body and neither was she. They worked, for some reason.

"Where would the mark go?" She asked, her eyes a little afraid. "How big would it be?"

He placed his hand over hers, "Big enough to get the DNA from my claws in."

"How do we even know if there is something in your claws?"

He smirked, "I can always drool on it too, once it's open. Make sure it gets in there."

"Be serious," She laughed and kneed him in the shin.

"It may be gross, but it makes sense. Just in case."

She sighed loudly and rested her head against his shoulder. "Okay where?"

Paul thought about the mark on her wrist. He didn't want to take the chance of clawing her there, in case somehow, he ruined the scar or messed it up. Somewhere far away from there, he decided. Just in case.

"On your foot. Or your calf."

She remained silent, pondering her options. "The calf. At least then it could be covered."

Paul frowned, suddenly hurt for some reason. She didn't want anybody to see his mark. She was ashamed.

Bella saw this though and reiterated, "If someone else knows about the legend, although doubtful, it would be a good place to be covered. We wouldn't want anybody knowing about this. Not even the Pack. For some reason, it feels sacred. Only to be shared between you and I."

Could Paul keep his brothers in the dark? He absolutely could, because he agreed with everything she said and told her so.

"Agreed."

Bella took a deep breath and scrunched her eyes closed. She was about to take a leap of faith. "Agreed"


	5. Chapter 5: Stupefaction

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

AN: I'm sorry I took so long to finish this chapter. Been planning my biker wedding (squeal!) and training for my new promotion. SO busy. But I hope you like the end result.

* * *

Chapter Five: Stupefaction

The night had grown long, the storm seeming to come to a close. Bella was sleeping peacefully, her body sprawled next to his on the mysterious queen sized bed. She was against the cement wall, her leg draped over one of his and her head turned away. Her arms rested above her head and she snored softly.

Paul stared across the dark room – the candles still flickering but almost melted down to nothing. Soon they would have no light, unless there were more candles on the three-level shelf. He had no idea where she had even found the candles to begin with.

He was excited – his mind running through scenarios and thoughts rapidly. He couldn't sleep because of it. He looked over to the girl sleeping heavily next to him, her face turned away. His eyes followed the curve of her ear to the line of her neck. Paul stifled a laugh, she, on the other hand, seemed to have no problem sleeping. He placed a hand on her thigh that was draped over him and plotted.

The wolf-man snatched Taha-Aki's journal from the floor beside the bed and scanned the pages. It was very cryptic and disappointing because of the missing pages. And there was one thing they didn't discuss, he noticed as he read. A human sacrifice. Being able to eliminate the entire vampire race was an amazing feat, but he didn't think he nor Bella had the heart to sacrifice a human.

But what if they could use Chief Swan as the sacrifice? He thought, his emotions shifting towards a darker path. Charlie Swan had been killed horrifically, yes, and it was terrible. But if his instincts were right, that the Chief had been killed by a vampire, then they could use his death as the sacrifice in the legend.

But there was no blood at the crime scene and in the journal, it was said that they needed the blood from a human killed by supernatural means. But the journal was cryptic... what would they even do with the blood?

At the time, it seemed awesome and quite a process. Now thinking back, it was all a show. It required a lot more planning then simply marking Bella with his claws.

Paul was nervous, his heart hammering once he realized the repercussions of everything.

"Bella? Are you awake?" He whispered softly, his hand rubbing softly against her thigh.

She snored louder, her thigh flexing and her head turning towards him, lips parted and eyes fluttered.

"Wake up, girl." Paul demanded in a soft voice to which there was no response. "Bella!"

At the loud volume, Bella's head snapped up, her eyes and hair wild. "Huh?"

Paul restrained himself from laughing at her half-closed eyes and dubious expression. "Do you think your father will work?"

Bella rubbed her eyes and sat up fully, her leg still draped over his. "Wait... What?"

"I think I figured it all out." Paul spoke passionately, his eyes glued on Taha-Aki's journal. He needed her mind – her wonderful crazy mind to help him plot their next moves.

"Figured what out?" The brunette girl questioned, her eyes searching his. They seemed wary but hopeful.

"I was just thinking about Taha-Aki's journal and we never really discussed the sacrificed human part."

Her eyes widened as she comprehended what he was saying. She shook her head to wake herself up a little more. "I don't want to kill anyone. Especially human."

He squeezed her thigh affectionately. "Neither do I. But if we're going to do this, which we agreed on," He eyed her, "We need blood from a human who was killed by supernatural means."

Bella titled her head, "I know. We could maybe hunt someone unworthy of life. A murderer or rapist. Although with even that, I don't know how I feel playing judge, jury and executor."

"Wouldn't that be what we were going to do anyways?"

She shook her head forcefully. "You're right but that's different."

Paul slapped her thigh lightly, "How? It's really no different. Especially if what you say and believe about some vampires not being evil. Not _worthy _of death."

She huffed and stood from the bed, his hand falling limply from her thigh to the gray, dusty blanket. She paced in front of him, her shorts riding up her thighs and her long hair swishing along her lower back. She stopped suddenly, stared at him – her eyes roaming up and down his chest – and then began pacing again.

She finally spoke after what felt like an hour but he knew it was only a few minutes. "First of all." She held up her index finger. "We're supposed to be saving, _preserving_ the human race, not killing it." He went to speak but she held up two fingers in front of him, "Second of all, what the _hell _would we even do with the blood?"

She had him there and she knew it. The journal never described what to do with the sacrificial blood, and Paul assumed it was in those ripped out pages somewhere.

Bella continued her rant, "Do we eat it? That seems disgusting but not illogical considering this curse seems to run in both our veins. Or do we put it in the mark you will do on my calf? Do we burn it and dance around the fire in masks and chant?"

"Be serious."

"I am! You're not! You want to do all this, and I admit, before I really did too. If even for my own fucking vendetta but we don't have enough details. Enough instructions."

He stood from the bed and placed his hands on her shoulders. She slouched away from him and put herself at a distance with her eyes burning. Paul's hands raised in surrender.

"Just calm down for a second." He spoke evenly to her, "We can figure this out." He looked around the room and saw her sketchbook. He stretched it out to her once he had it in his hands. "Maybe you can sketch the answer."

She took the book from him suddenly and threw it across the tiny shelter. "I don't have that fucking power yet. I can't fucking force it. It just fucking comes."

"Stop fucking swearing. Jesus." He wondered if she really was crazy.

"Fuck you." She spat out.

He threw his head back and sighed loudly. "Your father."

Bella immediately stopped pacing and narrowed her eyes at him. "You better explain real quick."

"You're father was killed by supernatural means." He hurriedly told her, awaiting for her to put the pieces together.

"Still don't know that for sure, but continue." She gestured her hand in a sweeping motion.

He rolled his eyes at her stubbornness. "We could just use him as the sacrificed human."

She shook her head quickly. "I thought I told you before. There was no blood at the crime scene. None. The forensic people couldn't find anything."

"What if I could find something?"

"Do you really think you could?"

Paul's gray eyes stared at nothing as he answered her question. "I think so. It seems physically impossible to decapitate someone," Bella winced and Paul looked at her in apology, "and leave no blood whatsoever. There has to be something there. Just a little drop. My wolf nose could find something, I'm almost sure of it."

She trusted his instincts because in her mind he was already the Chosen One. But her mind still repelled the idea of her father being used as the sacrifice in their plan. "I don't know. I mean, if his death wasn't wasted..." She trailed off.

"If his death means something," Paul continued for her, "It means it wasn't for nothing. I think he would like that."

"Me too." She agreed. "When should we search for this little drop of blood, that might not exist?"

He ignored her pessimism. "The storm is over."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Really? That's strange. For some reason I thought we would be down here a lot longer."

Paul studied her face. "It kind of seems like this was meant to be. Like those storms just came through this area so we could end up here."

"And find that journal." Bella finished.

"Exactly."

* * *

Bella stood back from the doors leading to their little shelter. She was nervous and excited as she watched Paul's sinewy, muscular arms pull the chains from the rusted handles. She felt she couldn't wrap her mind around any of the things that had gone on, but she could focus on their next mission.

Although the idea made her heart stutter, she felt they were doing the right thing. And as long as Paul – her new best friend – stayed by her side throughout the whole ordeal, then she could manage. They just had to go to her house and find a little drop of blood. She honestly doubted the chance, but it was worth taking.

The metal doors swung open and Bella shielded her eyes from the incoming sunlight. Being stuck in the storm shelter for who knows how many days, she wasn't used to the light. It was a surprising thing too. There was never sun in La Push.

"What now? Do we try to find the rest of the pack or try to avoid them completely?" She hitched up the duffle bag that was hanging over her shoulder – filled with her sketchbook, clothes and most importantly, Taha-Aki's journal. Paul held her father's urn under his arm.

"I feel that avoidance is the best right now. I can shield my thoughts pretty well, but if Sam pushes as Alpha, he can break the block."

"Avoid then." She nodded and followed him up the cement stairs. She felt she could always trust Paul's instincts.

They both gasped aloud, in sync, when they saw the earth outside of the shelter.

"I expected many things, but not this." Paul whispered, staring around himself in awe and wonder.

Bella shook her head, in a daze. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

They walked in opposite directions, both of their eyes scanning the property around them. There was nothing, and not in the sense that everything was destroyed and gone.

Nothing. Everything was exactly the same.

"Are my eyes deceiving me?" Paul questioned to himself but Bella heard him from a few feet away. She turned towards him and studied his face. Confusion was the most prominent expression placed there.

"No. Unless we've both gone completely insane, nothing happened."

His eyebrows scrunched as he closed the distance between them and took her hand in his. The same expression stayed painted on his face as he spun their bodies in a slow circle.

Bella gripped his hand tighter. "You can see further than me. What do you see?"

"I don't know. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I don't really have a good vantage point though. I can see into the forest around us, but the trees kind of block the view. They are too staggered to see through."

Bella started walking towards the forest, tugging on his hand to follow her. "We should head back to the beach. Check out the land. We might have just heard the storm. We could have been at the edge and we just got harsh winds."

Paul tugged on her hand, bringing her to a stop. Her eyes questioned him. "It's that way," Paul jerked his chin to the left.

"Oh," She replied dumbly and followed his lead.

Bella followed Paul down the path back to the beach parking lot. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, cataloging everything and looking for some sign of damage. There was nothing – the trees stood old, ancient and perfectly straight.

After carefully walking down the slope, her heart began racing. Paul quickly turned her way and studied her face – his wolf senses hearing the increasing beats.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his eyes sincere and lips pursed in curiosity. Maybe even worry. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Why would he worry about her? They did have a connection, and she felt he was her greatest friend. But she was attracted to him, and obviously he felt the same. But she didn't feel love, no. But looking into his gray, stormy eyes, maybe she could.

She could grow to love him deeply and that scared the shit out of her.

"I'm fine," Bella answered warily, "I just can't believe this." She pointed towards the parking lot – it was filled with sand and debris, but otherwise exactly the same. "My truck is still there."

Paul held tightly to her hand and led her over to the old, red, rusty Chevy. Bella followed behind him, her head swinging from side to side – completely bewildered.

Blindly following Paul's lead, Bella stopped suddenly, a gasp coming from her lips – a soft sound that seemed screeching and piercing. Paul immediately perked up, scanning the area around them.

They stood in front of her truck, the parking lot higher then the beach down below. About twenty sandy, rock steps led to the sand of the beach. Kids, young ages, played with a football next to the ocean.

"As if nothing happened," Paul whispered, pulling the small brunette into his side.

Bella wrapped her arm across his lower back – watching the children laughing and playing with the football. She scanned the beach and saw two young parents, sitting on beach chairs and watching their children with smiles on their faces.

"What? I...I don't get it," She stuttered, tucking herself further into Paul's side. His hot body heat calmed her down.

"We heard it right? I mean...the storm...it happened?" Paul questioned aloud, but to no one in particular.

"I don't-" Her words cut off when they heard a loud beeping sound. With a frown on her face, she pulled her phone from her shorts pocket. "How is this not dead?"

Paul shrugged. "You haven't used it. Only like two minutes on solitaire. Which is awesome by the way."

She giggled, "Thanks."

Paul grabbed Bella around the waist and placed her on the hood of her truck. She gasped and her face flushed. "What are you doing?"

"Mmm," He moaned, stepping between her legs and placing his face in her neck.

"We're in public..." She tried to protest but hummed when he nuzzled her ear. "Stop."

Paul huffed, placed a delicate kiss on her shoulder and leaped on the hood of the truck next to her. He placed his hand on her upper thigh. He was always touching her. Somehow – she found he was always either holding his hand, placing an arm around her shoulders or squeezing her thigh. She wasn't used to human contact – having been in an institution, but she didn't want him to stop.

Bella shook her head and then held her phone between them so they could both see the screen. Twenty four missed calls and seven text messages. "Jesus."

"_Where are you_?" Paul read the first message as she opened it, "It's from Jacob."

Bella frowned and scrolled down. "_How could you miss your own father's funeral_?"

She quickly scrolled through the messages. "This is ridiculous. I figured it would be canceled because of the storm."

"What storm?" Paul scoffed.

Bella slapped his hand on her thigh sharply, and then brought it to her lips. "You got that right."

He ran his finger along her jaw line as he watched the kids play in the sand. "Let's think of this logically. Obviously no storm had occurred. Did we hallucinate? Or is this all part of the Legend or whatever to get us in that storm shelter?"

"From what we've learned, we are obviously the Chosen One and The Marked One. Did someone, or something, somehow, create this illusion of a storm to get us to find that journal. To set us on the right path?" Bella questioned, her mind whirling.

"It makes sense. But who could have that kind of power? To manipulate the earth like that? To send out radio announcements, to cause lightening, hail and thunder?"

Bella sighed, "I have no idea." She jumped from the hood. "Ugh!" Kicking an empty can of soda across the lot, she grumbled, "Why does this have to be so confusing?"

Paul watched her fit with a smile. "I think it's to get us to put this legend in motion. I don't think we're supposed to question this, although it is a very curious thing – but we can figure it out."

"Okay," Bella mumbled and came to stand between his knees, facing the beach. "The plan."

"Yes," He agreed, wrapping his arms around her. "First we will find the blood. Secondly, marking. And then it's the mission."

"I'm still a little iffy on that part. Are we supposed to travel across the world, killing vampires?"

"Only the evil ones, like you said. I can deal with that."

"Also," Bella added, "In the journal, it said when the ritual was complete that you would gain something. A power maybe. A talent. I wonder what that is."

"I forgot about that, but yes. I wonder too. We should get started, for some reason, I feel like we have a certain time line for these events to take place," Paul told her, his hands now playing with the long strands of her hair.

"Should we avoid contact, Mr. instincts?" She teased him, but serious at the same time.

"My crystal ball says no contact with the pack. They would complicate things, although I don't see how. I also feel we should get started, like right now."

Bella walked to the duffle bag Paul had placed near the door. It held some clothes, her dad's ashes and the keys to her truck. She dug for them with a huff.

Paul watched her, "Where were you going anyways?"

"What do you mean?" She questioned, straightening her body with the found keys in her hand.

"You were leaving, after you dumped the ashes in the ocean. You were going somewhere. That's why you packed. Where were you going?"

She sighed sadly, "Anywhere but here."

He rubbed her shoulder and wretched open the driver's side door. "After you, my lady."

She hopped in, "Why thank you, kind sir."

When they settled into their seats, Bella laughed suddenly. The truck didn't start, that's why she was stuck on the beach. Something was wrong with it.

She placed the key in the ignition anyways and turned it. The beast started right away with a loud roar. Paul laughed at her confused face and then smiled when she shrugged. The truck was the least of their worries. They didn't need anymore questions to search for the answers. They had enough on their plates.

"To the house?" Bella questioned, "To maybe find some...blood?" She stared out the windshield timidly as she put the truck in reverse.

"Yes. One step at a time. Find the sacrificial blood. We'll figure out everything afterwards. The marking, what to do with the blood, how to hunt the evil vampires. What the fucking _purpose_ of this all is." Paul laughed harshly, "Fucking cryptic journals."

Bella slowly pulled out of the parking lot, dreading going to the crime-scene of where her father was brutally murdered. "Fucking nightmare." She whispered.

"You got that right, baby." Paul told her, scooting closer on the bench seat so he could touch her thigh.

Bella searched the forest around the secluded road as she drove to Forks. Everything was the same. Nothing changed. The trees were still covered in moss and the road was still empty and silent.

"I'm hungry," She spoke suddenly, her stomach grumbling in agreement. "What fucking day is it anyways? I can't even remember the last time I ate."

Paul pulled her phone from her pocket as she concentrated on driving. "It's august 15th. Sunday. We were in that shelter for only two days."

She frowned in confusion. "That's it? Two days? Wow it feels so much longer."

He tiled his head to look out the window, "Sure does."

The brunette pale-face and the wolf who should have never shifted, drove along to Forks. Drove to Bella's house where the murder had taken place. In silence. Bella turned the radio off when they had entered her old truck, and besides little comments here and there, they stayed quiet.

Contemplating. Thinking.

She would do this. She would be marked. She would find the sacrificial blood. And she would hunt vampires.

Vengeance is a deadly thing, she realized. Like a poison that takes over your entire body.

Revenge, a dish best served cold.

She would seek it with her Wolf's help.

For her. For her father. For the pain the Cullens had put her through. For anybody who was ever toyed with. For victims of deadly, beautiful, seductive vampires.

As Bella drove with Paul in silence – his head resting on her shoulder as he stared out the windshield – she decided her path. She would be a killer of killers. And she would relish in it.

For herself. For Chief Charlie Swan.

For Adrien...


End file.
